


Our Scars Have The Power To Remind Us

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What a collection of scars you have, never forget who gave you the best of them, and be grateful."</p>
<p>Since Lecter's incarceration, both Chilton and Will have secluded themselves from the outside world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The silver gleam of a knife was all that he could see as he slowly returned to consciousness. The announced words of a man, a face he could recognise, but his world seemed hazy. Blinking several times, he tried to adjust and work out why the only feeling in his body was a sense of numbness._

_The face of his former patient was not one that Doctor Frederick Chilton had wanted to see as he awoke, with no control over his body._

_With great difficulty, he could glance down to gain a better understanding of his surroundings. A dark room, the unsettling face of Abel Gideon and his hands restrained to the table. Suddenly, his breathing increased as more details came into focus. A weightlessness settled over him, almost suffocating. He could barely focus, and when he could, he wished that he didn’t. Gideon was talking, accompanied by a harsh slap across his face. Disorientated, he continued breathing heavily, unable to scream, when the knife started cutting into his stomach-_

 

That was when he woke up.

 

The blankets surrounding the psychiatrist were sprawled across the bed. The lamp and items on his bedside table had been knocked to the floor. “Not again”, he thought to himself, then realised he had spoken it. However, it sounded more like a lazy slur of words. It didn’t matter. No-one would be around to hear it.

 

He rubbed a hand over his face, pausing as his fingers reached his scar. Gideon’s words still ringed throughout his head after their meeting before his death. He could be put back together again, after all that he had endured, though he was marked, by both Abel and Hannibal Lecter. It seemed like a harsh punishment for a crime he did not know he had committed, though he was lulled into the false security that both people could not affect him. With Lecter in prison and Gideon dead, it should  have been simple to move on, yet he was affected on a daily basis. Scars left both on his physical and mental form, that he found impossible to move past.

 

With Gideon, it was easier. He was dead, and the scar left on his stomach was healing and usually hidden from the world. Though it was invisible to the outside, the cane was still a large part of his persona. The pain of Gideon’s handiwork was still a large part of his daily life, though he did not rely on it as much, it was easier with the support of his cane. Also, Chilton found that it added to his image. In the past few months, since Lecter’s incarceration, he had formed a greater awareness of how his appearance made him look to the rest of the world. The bullet wound on his face was now a permanent aspect of him. People stared, with looks of mixed sympathy, shock and disgust. It had reached the point where he had started to grow back his old beard in a light stubble, just to draw attention away from it. It worked on occasion, but was met with more confusion than attention. It was something he’d have to experiment with.

 

Pulling himself out of his bed, he wandered over to the large closet in his room, letting his eyes  become used to the bright white colours of his house and bedroom; a huge contrast to the hospital that he would have to make his way over to in less than an hour.

 

To his co-workers at the hospital, Frederick was viewed with confusion and apprehension, with an added layer of awkwardness. He was not well liked among his colleagues, that was evident and a well-known fact, but that combined with the added speculation that he could have been a murderer meant that no-one wanted to engage in conversation with him. Occasionally an orderly would spot him in the hallways, or a guard would make an offhand remark about one of the patients. Overall, it was a difference to his previous experience at work, but he hoped with time it would change. He was also aware that this hope could easily be in vain, as the initial discomfort of returning would be replaced by dislike.

 

However, his job wasn't one that was dependent on him being popular. He had dealt with being disliked throughout his entire life, and this was just another stage of it. Surely enough, it would pass, and he could continue. In this mindset, he finished getting dressed and left for work. He didn’t need to be liked, he needed to continue. Popularity and relationships was just a perk.

 

That’s what he told himself.

 

\--

 

Rays of sunlight shone against Will Graham’s face, even with a hat to protect it. As he pulled away from the boat motor, a smile crept onto his face. It had been months since Hannibal’s trial, and since then, he had tried to distance himself as far away from that world as he could. The solution he found was to leave with the dogs to Florida and focus his time on fixing boat motors. In retrospect, Will found himself wishing he had done this months ago. Without the threat of Hannibal and serial killers always on his mind, Will found that he could sleep quietly through the nights.

 

However, Will was still a marked man.

 

Scars are not always physical, though Will had his fair share of injuries left from the past months. Often, the psychological, scars and marks were just as painful as the physical scrapes. To try and combat this, he put as much effort as he could into busying his mind with his “work”. He read, he watched television, he went out into the lake and fished. It still wasn't enough to stop his mind from crawling back to what he once had.

 

Relationships were difficult for Will. Before his involvement in the Chesapeake Ripper case, he wanted to distance himself from them as much as possible. In the aftermath, he was surprised how much he had been affected by the relationships he had developed, and how they could affect his mind. Hannibal was the obvious connection, and one of the largest ones. The empath knew what he was: a monster, a cannibal, heartless...he’d heard those descriptions over and over. A few months ago, it was him who had been trying to convince everyone of the truth to those words. However, now that he had proved those names to be true, there was a deep feeling of regret that made him feel sick to his stomach.

 

With Hannibal, it was obvious. Most people seemed to know how much of an impact the psychiatrist had on Will. After the trial, they all had approached him, with shoulder touches and attempts of sympathy that just felt empty. Only those who really had known Hannibal knew what he was going through. Alana and Jack had been affected in similar ways, and they understood. When Will left, there had been no attempt to contact him from both parties, and for which he was grateful. In this secluded area that was a paradise to him, there had been no recognition of who he was and what he had become. A blank slate.

  
  


However, the relationships he had developed and lost now left a larger impact. Before, when it was only himself and the dogs, he never noticed it. His pack filled the need for human interaction incredibly, though now, he found himself slightly missing it. The Sun continued to beat down on Will’s head as he sat outside. The chair was wooden and uncomfortable, but in this weather, it was near impossible to stay inside. He made a mental note to fix the air conditioning when he had the time, before holding back a laugh. Who was he kidding? Time was all he had left right now.

 

There was one item that peaked his curiosity. The bag that he had quickly packed that contained old belongings was left virtually untouched when he first moved. It was only yesterday that he found it again, covered in an array of scattered clothes and books. Folded clothes, some equipment for fishing, then a device he thought was gone.

 

The phone felt strange in Will’s hand. It had been months since he had even glimpsed at it. From this, he would hear the angry shouts of Jack calling him back into the FBI office, or Alana requesting to see him, or even…

 

His fingers lingered over one name in the contacts list. “FREDERICK CHILTON", with no contact picture and only one number was still left in his phone. He ran a hand over his face, quietly cursing to himself.

 

The last proper interaction that the two had was on the last night of Chilton’s stay at Will’s house. Once the doctor arrived at the house, carrying bags and drenched in blood, he knew that he had to help. What Hannibal would have wanted is for Chilton to run and inevitably be captured, so they developed a truce. After a few weeks, he started genuinely enjoying this short time with his ex-doctor. On the final night, Frederick kissed him. It lasted for only a few seconds before Will pulled away in shock, not knowing how to respond. The hurt on the doctor’s face was similar to Will’s dogs upon facing rejection, and it was one of the final memories Will had of him. Chilton avoided him at the trial, refusing to make any contact at all.

 

Guilt spread through Will, though he was tempted to delete the number and throw the phone as far as he could away from him and the new life that he had constructed. Everything he had worked towards could be broken with one simple phone call. After at least an hour of deliberating, he decided he was overthinking it. One simple phone call wouldn’t make a complete difference, surely. He owed Frederick an apology, albeit a late one.

 

With a slight shake in his fingers, Will pressed the dial button. It rang through for at least twenty seconds, though it felt like minutes. As soon as he was about to hang up, there was a voice.

 

_“Doctor Frederick Chilton here."_

 

_“Hello Frederick...”_


	2. between the lines, fear and blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Lecter's incarceration, both Chilton and Will have secluded themselves from the outside world.

Of all the voices he had expected to hear today, Will Graham’s was not one of them.

 

The last few nights at the hospital had been considerably hectic, even for Chilton’s own standards. Though it had been months since the trial, there was more discussion on bringing Hannibal back into the hospital. He had been offered immediately after the trial, though he was refused, this time it was taking a lot more consideration.

 

Since the Gideon incident, the institute had been moving at a much slower pace. It inhabited around twenty patients now. The majority of them were no hassle, but that meant that they weren’t useful to study. When the offer for Lecter first appeared, Frederick had declined, and it had been one of the quickest decisions of his life. From the way he played Will Graham, leaving him bleeding out on the floor, to the way he affected Miriam Lass’ mind. He was dangerous, even in custody. To even imagine that the bastard could be in his hospital, including daily visits and listening in on conversations, it made his stomach churn. He wanted nothing more than to cut the doctor completely out of his life and recover from what he had caused.

 

However, as time passed, he began to ponder over the advantages of having Hannibal in his care. A chance to study a pure sociopath. His mind reeled as he began to imagine the credit he could gain from his future possible discoveries, the papers that could be written, the respect from social circles, the attention…

 

It wasn't an easy choice, that was certain, although there was nowhere for Chilton to discuss this inner deliberation. Nothing had changed at the hospital; people still avoided him as if he were the murderer at fault here. He had no-one to turn to outside of work. Hell, he had no-one to even talk to about anything. He pondered over this late at night. Around half an hour ago, he’d arrived back at his old house. He still hated it. When he first arrived, he almost vomited. The smell of blood still reeked throughout the house. He was not sure if it still was there, or if he was imagining it.. To this day, he still hadn’t ventured down into the basement, terrified of what would be waiting for him. He wanted to get away, but where else would he stay? After a month of cheap hotels, he decided it would be worth it to move back.

 

He sat on the couch, a dish consisting of mostly salad leaves with a slight dressing resting against his legs. He wasn't especially hungry, and his food choices were limited since his attack. Frederick was not especially fond of salad, but he was not much of a chef. He made a mental note to search for more vegan-based dishes.

That was when the phone rang.

 

\--

 

The noise startled him, as the shrill ringing continued to get louder. He located the noise source in a drawer in the next room. Initially, he was confused. He’d forgot that he still had this phone, believing he had thrown it away in his attempted run from the FBI. Just like his other phones and possessions, unless it was..

 

Hesitantly, he turned it over to show the front screen. Suddenly the phone felt much heavier in his hands, as he mouthed the name that appeared in block capitals. This was a mistake, a dream, a hallucination. Perhaps he had turned crazy. This wasn't happening, not yet.

 

“Doctor Frederick Chilton here,” he spoke with as much professionalism as he could muster. This must be a client, or a worker at the hospital. He was imagining things.

 

“Hello Frederick,” a voice called out. He blinked quickly, realizing he’d already accepted the phonecall. Almost dropping the phone, his breathing quickened. He wasn’t ready for a discussion, not like this. He wasn’t sure if he-

 

“Frederick,” the voice called out again, slightly firmer this time. Taking a deep breath, Chilton closed his eyes and raised the phone to his ear.

 

“What do you want, Will?” He asked. His voice was quiet, with a slight tiredness to his words, but the underlying message was clear. The words were spiteful, a question given to try and speed this conversation along. He couldn't discuss anything like this.

 

A silence settled over the two. Chilton ran a hand over his hair, realizing it was shaking slightly.

 

“How are you?”

 

He laughed. Full-on laughter that nearly made his sides hurt.  For the first time in months, it must have been since he had previously done that. He was certain that his scar started to ache, but as he moved a hand to it, he began to slide down against the wall. He felt crazy. Completely insane. This had to be a hallucination of some kind. He would be in the hospital now, regarded by people trying to work out his sanity.

 

“Is that really how you’re going to greet me after all of this, a simply how are you?!”

 

“Frederick-”

 

“No, no...you don’t get to ask that. Not after all of this. Not after-” his voice was rising in anger. Chilton’s hand firmly gripped the table, still with a slight shake to it. He hadn’t seen quivers like that in his hands since he’d dropped from medical school.

 

He let the phone fall to the floor, and he quickly followed. Slinking against the wall, his head in his hands. How dare he. After their last meeting, after all that he had gone through. Will had left him. Just after Lecter’s incarceration he fled to who-knows where. No contact, not even a goddamn phonecall until today. He was stuck with the last interaction being a rejection from Will, and that was his lasting memory. Now, he thought that he could return and that it would be alright. He’d-

 

“Are you still there?”

 

The empath’s voice cut through his own thoughts. Frederick’s breathing slowed as he thought over his response. An overwhelming temptation was to tell him to leave and then destroy the phone. In the long run, that could be the easiest method. Cut off any personal ties, just as Will had.

 

However, Frederick Chilton wasn’t known for choosing the easy method.

 

“Yes, I’m still here,” His voice was barely audible, but he was certain Will would hear it.

 

“Frederick, I’m sorry for-”

 

“No. Will, just...just don’t. Leave the subject. Not now.”

 

“But-"

 

"No, Will...just drop it."

 

The silence returned. When the doctor envisioned this conversation, he imagined a heated debate in person. Possible violence...he never imagined he’d be resting on the floor against a wall talking over the phone. The unspoken words drifted in the air. Everything he wanted to say, ask and apologize for. Their last meeting replayed throughout his mind, almost punishing him. He hated himself for it.

 

“Where are you, Will?” As much as he tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, it was clear from a mile away. Cursing himself, he rested his head against the wall.

 

There was a sigh from the other end of the line. “Florida. Fishing, mostly. People have compared it to an early retirement. I had to get away, since…”

 

“Since Lecter, I know.”

 

Will was quiet for a while after that. Seconds felt like minutes as they crawled by. Chilton was scared he had irritated him by cutting him short. Perhaps he’d hang up at the mention of Hannibal’s name.

 

“Do you want to make a short visit?”

 

Frederick nearly dropped the phone in shock, unaware of what Will was asking. At first, he thought he was imagining it. He had half a mind to say no. This was a rushed decision, he needed to think it over. Besides, the hospital was busy already, but with the added stress of Hannibal, the situation had only got more hectic. But, this was still being discussed, and it would take a lot more to confirm his transfer to the BSHCI. That couldn’t happen over a two day period, surely.

 

For a second, he was certain this was a dream of a sort. This was too surreal to be happening. After the mess of their relationship he had caused by rushing it, Will now wanted to see him. It was ridiculous. This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening. He tried to convince himself, over and over. An urge to laugh returned, just as a temptation to smash the phone against the wall appeared. But what would that accomplish?

 

_It is 1.47AM. I am in Baltimore, Maryland, and my name is Frederick Chilton. The person that I messed up a relationship with is currently calling me and inviting me to visit him._ A simple exercise he'd encouraged a few patients to do. It wasn't entirely helpful, but it helped ground him in reality. Or at least, help him to realize what he had to do. He'd destroyed whatever relationship there was between Will and himself. This was only a visit, at least. A short, possible overnight stay. He'd be able to apologize for what he did...

 

Hesitating, he collected his thoughts to at least try and sound professional, and not like the mess that he currently was. “I-I should be free this weekend, Will. Unless something drastic appears. Is that a good time for you?”

 

“I shouldn’t have anything. Work’s slow on weekends,” Chilton was certain he could hear a sigh of relief, which made him smile, despite his current mental state. “I’ll send you the address later.”

 

“Perfect.”

 

“Good night, Frederick,”

 

“Good evening, Will.” He spoke, before hanging up. He rested his phone beside him on the floor, leaning his head back against the wall, wondering what the hell he had just done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has much more of a slow-build than I previously thought it would, but we're getting to the Will/Frederick now! In the next chapters, I'm planning on them meeting and discussing, and the relationship should start to repair and build from there.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's given kudos and comments to this fic, it's greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly inspired by other fics, and the quote about scars that's often used in other Willton fics. I've had this idea for a while now, but I've just lacked motivation to write. This is my first fic in many months, and first time writing for the Hannibal universe.
> 
> I'll hopefully update soon!


End file.
